


Dying for Dummies

by xXChemically_Imbalanced_RomanceXx



Series: That's the Spirit [2]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Danny Fenton has two brain cells total, Gore, Hurt Danny, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Stupid Teenagers, The implied drinking is in chapter 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXChemically_Imbalanced_RomanceXx/pseuds/xXChemically_Imbalanced_RomanceXx
Summary: Teenage boys are stupid. That's just one of life's many truths. Now, what happens when you give one of them the power to turn into a ghost every time he faces death? Pure crack-head energy.Just a collection of one-shots depicting the many ways Danny has explored his own death.
Series: That's the Spirit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001463
Comments: 51
Kudos: 173





	1. Lookin' Chipper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tucker is most definitely over Danny's dumbassery and Danny is most certainly NOT a masochist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions and description of gore

“Hey Danny, don’t you think this might be taking it a tad bit too far?”

Danny slowly took his leg out of the woodchipper and gave Tucker a look of confusion, as if this was just another regular Thursday night at the park, which granted, to them it kind of was, what with Danny’s new powers and all.

The first time Danny killed had himself in front of Tucker the boy had panicked. What were you supposed to do when your best friend looked you in the eye, said, and I quote “I’m feeling a little Tucker-ed out” and then proceeded to shoot himself? How he had even got hold of a gun in the first place remains a mystery and Tucker preferred it that way. The initial shock was finally wearing off and his finger had been hovering the call icon on his phone when Danny, in all his monochromatic gory glory, simply stood up and gave him a cheeky grin, like he had just told the world’s greatest joke.

The first thing he did was cry and trap his best friend between his arms. The second was punching Danny repeatedly while angrily yelling at him for being so stupid. Suffice to say Danny’s shoulder was sore for over a week after.

“Come on, can’t we just ditch whatever new kink this is and go get ourselves some Pumpkin Spice Fraps!”

“Look Tucker, I just want to be able to test my body’s limits without being kink shamed by my best friend, is that too much to ask for? Now shut it and help me into this woodchipper please.”

“Ancients, this is going to haunt my nightmares isn’t it…”

“Did you just make a- “

“Not intentionally! Never intentionally.”

Tucker sighed as he helped his friend to his gory death. Honestly, couldn’t he have chosen a less messy way to die this time? He was not going to enjoy picking out pieces of Danny off himself afterward.

“You know Danny, I think you have a problem.”

“What lead you to that epiphany?”

“Well first of all you’re taking a selfie, in a woodchipper, seconds before you die!”

“Come on Tuck, it’s for the meme”

“Won’t it hurt?”

“Well yeah but think of it as like running a marathon, it hurts in the moment but afterward, you’ve got this feeling of like, accomplishment.”

“So, you’re a masochistic adrenalin junkie now?”

“I wouldn’t say masochistic- “

“Nope. I’m helping my best friend kill himself ‘for the meme’, what has my life become?”

Danny gave him his signature dorky smile and patted his hat,

“Cheer up dude. All I’m trying to do is lift some spirits!”

Without hesitation, Tucker turned the woodchipper on, feeling the satisfaction bubble up at hearing his friend’s surprised yelp. In an instant, red ichor spattered everywhere.

It was as if someone had popped a giant, and he means giant, water balloon if the water balloon was filled with red water and left a metallic taste in his mouth. He was starting to get way to comfortable with the whole concept of messy deaths. Where he would’ve, once upon a time, fainted at the mere sight of a paper cut, now he just shrugged off the arm sticking out of the woodchipper. Huh, must be stuck. He moved to turn off the machine when shuttered and coughed up another bloody bomb, hitting him square in the chest. 

“Ew, Danny, I think you ruined my favorite sweater” Tucker looked down at the pale sweater now tainted with gore, “my dad made me this, how am I supposed to explain my friend smeared on it?”

“Hey man, I say it looks metal as fuck!”

Tucker looked up to see the pulse deficient version of his friend grinning at him like the mad man he is. He bit back the smile threatening to appear on his face.

“Dude, that was awesome!”

“what the fuck Danny.”

“No seriously, you ever been on like a really tall slip-n-slide?”

“I really don’t wanna know”

“It was just like that, but spicy!”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means what it means” he blankly stated, wiggling his fingers towards him.

“Ancients you cryptid fuck, come on, if we hurry, we can probably still make it to Starbucks before they close!”

-

Walking back, drinks in hand and happily chatting away, they heard an earsplitting scream. Normally they would run off to fight whatever ghost had decided now was the perfect time for a fight or a good scare. They turned to each other in horror as they realized they had forgotten one very important detail,

“The woodchipper!”


	2. Fizzing Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired from that one episode of South Park where Kenny eats a shit ton of Alka Seltzers thinking they were mints and just explodes. Please tell me I didn't imagine that episode, I was thinking about it recently..

Why is it that T.V. lies to young and impressionable teens?

None of this would’ve happened if he had just done a quick google search but no, you can’t learn if you don’t make mistakes, and vomiting up what was probably his stomach lining was one hell of a mistake.

“Dude, we told you this wouldn’t work, and did you listen?” Tucker asked, not bothering to look up from his PDA.

“Absolutely not,” Danny said as he threw up yet another goop of red, “I don’t understand, how did this not work?”

Sam reached over and slapped him upside the head before sighing, “How could you think this would work, you can’t really be that dense can you?”

“Well-“

“Hey guys, I think I know what went wrong!” Tucker interrupted, “Danny-dude’s got a bad case of salicylate poisoning.”

“That still doesn’t explain what went, what went-” Danny started before more vomit bubbled out of his mouth and into the toilet next to him leaving streaks of bubbling red ribbon in their wake. That was going to be a bitch to clean.

“Maybe, I don’t know, just a passing thought, South Park isn’t an accurate depiction of real life, and maybe, just maybe, downing 80 Alka Seltzers, 10 times the recommended amount, might not make you explode but have some kind of Seltzer poisoning” Sam pointed at Danny who looked down in shame. Could she really blame him? It seemed achievable at the time.

“Actually Sam, it’s salicylate poisoning.”

“That’s not important right now Tucker!”

“Guys I- you know I- um well you- I-“ Danny felt like he was on the brink of crying as he struggled through his words, no, this was important, he could get through the thick cloud that had started to fill his head, “I love- You guys are love- I mean ugh,” he couldn’t hold back the sudden need to cry as he threw himself at his friends.

“I jus-ave sooooo muh love, soo much fr youuuu, you gss”

The two friends froze as the shaking black mop of hair snuggled into them.

‘It’s a side effect’ Tucker mouthed over to Sam who simply nodded and took hold of Danny’s face.

“Danny, do you wanna sit?”

“nono no nono, I cn’t sits, if sit I-, if I sit then can’t huuug.” he slurred, trying but failing to shake his head out of Sam’s hands.

It was like talking to a toddler. A really clingy toddler. It was kind of cute, in a strange way. Just so long as you ignored the blood dribbling out of his mouth and pooling at her hands, threatening to spill over just as the tears in Danny’s eyes had.

“It’s okay dude, here, why don’t we go up to your room, we can sit on your bed and cuddle, how about that?” Tucker said struggling in Danny’s arms a bit as he tried to pry himself away.

The trio ended up sprawled on the bathroom floor, Danny silently crying and bleeding over his friends. Neither of them had the heart to move him.

After a few minutes of just holding their friend, they felt the telltale sign of Danny’s ghostly form replacing his physical one. In an instant, the room was filled with a content purr-like hum emanating from the sleeping boy.

“Is he purring?” Tucker asked, a bit thrown back at the sudden change in demeanor from the ghost boy. While Fenton the human greeted his emotional personality with open arms, Phantom was much more secretive and closed-off. It was strange to see Phantom in such an emotional state.

“Just be glad there aren’t any ghosts around, he deserves to rest, ghost form or not.”

Both suddenly jumped as Danny cuddled closer to his friends, his purring growing louder and settling around them like a thick blanket.

“Should we tell him, you know, about the purring?”

Sam turned to Danny; he looked the most at ease she’d seen him since the accident.

“Let’s just keep this one to ourselves Tuck.” She smiled as both of them shifted into a more comfortable position.

They were going to be here for a while, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wasn’t planning on this turning out to be this wholesome! It just kind, wrote itself? Here y’all go ig. Also sorry about the lack of update schedule, we’re nearing finals week and uhhh idk what I’m doing writing fanfic instead of studying but that’s that.


	3. Good Day Gone Shitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't get the thought of Danny drowning himself in the toilet out of my head so uhh, here it is.

“Shit, shit, shit-“

He hurriedly turned another corner as he frantically looked for a shadow to blend into, a loud crash echoing behind him. He needed to find a place to kill himself and ASAP, that or someplace to stop and reel in his racing thoughts. Just then he caught sight of a staff bathroom and beelined towards it. He all but threw himself inside and locked the door behind him.

Once inside he slid down the door and let himself catch a breath, coughing up a lung or two on the way down. He was _not_ made for athleticism.

He was having a good day today. Not only did he get up in time this morning, but his mom had made his favorite breakfast. It was ecto-contaminated halfway to death (pun very much intended) and a little on the burnt side, but those pancakes really hit the spot. It was the mid-way through the school day, and in the middle of a well-deserved nap, when he felt the familiar chill escape his lungs. Seconds later, Ember crashed through the middle of a lecture, guitar in hand.

Normally, he would have made his way towards the science labs (glass shards and dissection kits were easy to find and scarily easy to steal without arousing suspicion), towards the tantalizing arms of Thanatos, but he had been resting in the arms of his twin brother during Lancer’s English class, across the school, and on the third floor. Yeah, he was royally screwed.

He tangled his fingers in his sweaty locks and banged his head against the door. When he was younger, his mother would scold him for the act. Something about traumatizing brain cells and impairing cognitive function. To that he let out a half-hearted chuckle. The trauma to his brain cells was minimal compared to his own. Plus, he was a teenage boy, it was bold of her to assume he _had_ any brain cells.

Pushing himself up onto his feet, he took in his surroundings. No student had ever actually been inside the faculty bathrooms. It was almost a cyrtid of its own at this point. Unlike the school, which was worn down and green in place that shouldn’t be, the bathroom was clearly well kept, like _really_ well kept. It was almost uncanny how it seemed to be directly clipped from some IKEA set. Ferns dangled from a few hanging pots over the sink and luxury soaps adorned the counter.

So this is were all that school funding goes.

The sound of another crash pulled him from his state of- awe? Wonder? And as if a starter pistol, his racing thoughts revved the engine and slammed into the gas. How in the zone was he supposed to go ghost here? The bathroom didn’t even have a mirror for him to break and use. What kind of bathroom doesn’t have a mirror!?

He glanced around the bathroom for what seemed like the umpteenth time when his eyes locked on a crazy idea. Scratch that, an insane- no, psychotic and zany idea. It wasn’t that far out there. He’s gotten millions of swirlies, Dash is quite the stereotype, this shouldn’t be any different right?

“I hate my life. “

* * *

“So are we gonna acknowledge Danny being drenched in ass water or..?”

The weirdo-trio (as they’ve been dubbed by students and adults alike) were hanging out in Danny’s room with a freshly human Danny. His hair and the collar of his shirt looked to have taken a head-first dive into a manhole, and it sure smelled that way.

Danny promptly flushed and nervously scratched at his neck, “I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about the _crap_ I went through today.”

“Aw come on man, you know you can tell us anythi- oof” Tucker started before being interrupted by a sucker punch to the shoulder delivered by Sam.

She held out a towel and clean shirt to Danny, shaking her head at Tucker’s comment. “What Tucker meant to say was, it’s ok Danny, you don’t have to tell us, but whatever it is, we’re here for you.” She added with a slight glare to Tucker, now nursing his bruised arm and ego.

“No guys, it’s ok, it’s just... embarrassing?” Danny let out a nervous chuckle as he made his way towards Sam. He flashed a grateful smile and went to work on drying his hair, scrunching up his nose at the smell, and discarded his dirty shirt on his bedroom floor.

“I do have to say, Tucker’s right, you reek.” Sam said as she picked his shirt up with the tips of her fingers, nose held as she threw it in his laundry basket.

“heh, yeah, you would think with how much our school loves those faculty bathrooms they would invest in some kind of professional toilet cleaners but nooo...”

“No fucking way-“ both Sam and Tucker looked at him with saucers for eyes, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

“You were in the faculty bathroom!?” Tucker asked in awe gaining him another blow to his already bruised shoulder.

“More importantly,” Sam grabbed on to Danny’s shoulders, “you drowned yourself in the shit of an authority figure only to spit in their face by cutting school?!”

She twirled and dramatically draped herself on his bed, forearm to arms as if hit with a world-shattering epiphany, “Oh the irony of adolescence.”

Danny chuckled at the dramatics, then frowned, “Okay, I did NOT drown myself in shit, just shit smelling toilet water, seriously- it was worse than our bathrooms! And that’s saying something.” He then turned to Tucker a smile splitting his face, “and yeah, it was ~magical~”.

Sam picked a pillow off his bed and aimed at the two of them, “you guys are fucking dorks,” she pointed towards Danny, “ _stinky_ dorks”.

“Oh, oh, at least we’re not emo thespians~” Tucker threw back alongside the pillow only for it to be caught effortlessly by Sam. He yelped and scrambled away as she made her way towards him. Danny could barely control his giggles at the sight of their playful banter.

“I. Am. NOT. An. Emo.” She said between assaulting him. Sometime between Tucker and Sam’s play fight, Danny donned a pillow of his own, catching both friends by surprise. The three teens spent the next few minuets battling mercilessly against each other, laughter shaking the space themed walls of Danny’s bedroom.

Maybe life wasn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for having such a ~h e c t i c~ updating schedule. I promise I'm working on more content!  
> Also I'm loving all of y'alls ideas in the comments! So if y'all have ideas you want to see feel free to leave em' in the comments. Expect a lot of those becoming chapters later on *wink wink*
> 
> This idea came from @The67ImpalaDragonChild


	4. Burning Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dash finds out in the worst way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE!!!
> 
> This chapter has more gore than normal, though hopefully your here because you can stomach a little gore. It's a-okay to skip this chapter if you feel a little squeamish about it!
> 
> -Basic run down for those who are opting out of the chapter-  
> Dash basically runs into Danny munching on a match after drinking what is hinted at being alcohol (though you could replace it with gasoline if you're uncomfy with the idea of underage drinking or Danny drinking in general). After freaking out, Danny sits him down and it's implied that he confesses about his ghostly identity.

A seemingly invisible branch smacked him, like a slap to the face. He bit back a curse as he tenderly rubbed the injured spot. He shot a glare at the offending branch before walking off, shattered ego in hand.

It had been a long day for Dash.

To start off, it was a Tuesday; the worst day, in his humble opinion, of the week. A mockery of the seven-day week system. Mondays always went by quicker than anticipated, maybe because your mind was still laid out on Sunday’s bed and hadn’t fully woken up. Or maybe just because of the bad stigma surrounding the day. Up for debate. Wednesday offered the relief of being smack in the middle, a sign that you were halfway through the week. Plus, how could anyone hate the iconic “pink/hump day”? Thursday’s a reminder of what’s to come. Friday is just around the corner and Thursday was it’s biggest cheerleader, and who could deny a sexy cheerleader? Did he even have to explain the weekend crew? Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were the A-listers of the week, but with less criticism and more fun. But Tuesday? Tuesday laughed in the face of students. You’re awake, aware of what’s to come. Tuesday roundhouse kicked you in the gut and called you all kinds of slurs.

Tuesday also marked the date of his Physics exams so he may be a little biased. He could never wrap his head around the subject. Give him a poem to analyze, a historical event to write a report on, hell, even a sonnet to play, but ask him Newton’s laws and he’ll respond with a blank face. It wasn’t like he didn’t study either. He had weekly study sessions at Fentons’ house, and while Danny had been a huge help, that didn’t stop him from failing this exam.

Speaking of Danny.

Their relationship was slowly, but surely, getting better throughout the years. After being dragged to therapy by his family, he’d gathered up the balls to not only stop the tormenting of his fellow peers but formed a well-versed apology- his magnum opus, to Danny. The kid just waved his apology off, as if it were the least of his worries, water under the bridge, but that only served to fuel his need to get closer to him- no one waved off years of bullying that easily.

To say Dash worried for Danny was an understatement. While the bullying ceased at the end of Freshman year, the daily bruises Danny wore didn’t. There was a higher probability of winning the lottery than to catch the kid without some kind of injury.

And he was skinny. Deathly so. Malnourished more likely than not.

It could be neglect. Hopefully not abuse. Dash knew the Fentons were over-indulged in their work, gluttonous even. He really hoped that, amidst all of their work, they set aside time from their children. Ghosts were important, sure, but why have kids if you don’t look after them. And by the looks of Danny-

But Jazz was a different story. She seemed to be the mirror image of her brother, both siblings passionate and wise beyond their age, but that’s where the similarities seemed to end. Jazz was the perfect everything. Perfect student, perfect daughter, she was beautiful and graceful and seemed to light up the world around her. Where Danny was cold and distant, Jazz radiated warmth and greeted everyone with open arms. Where Danny was pale, gaunt, and sharp in his features, Jazz was vibrant, bright, and soft. Jazz was a compassionate canine; Danny a cornered cat.

That alone raised so many more questions. Did the Fentons favor Jazz? Did they feel that Danny hadn’t lived up to the legacy Jazz left behind? Did they hate Danny? It sure seemed like they did. What could Danny- sweet, dopey but kindhearted Danny- have done to garner such fierce hatred towards him? From his parents no less.

He pushed the thoughts away as he trudged past the park’s populated hiking trail into a more obscure one.

One of the activities he picked up from his therapy days was hiking (although hiking was a generous term to describe the early morning and nighttime walks he went on). It allowed him time away from all the drama at school, all his responsibilities. Out here, it was just him and the trees.

He knew these trees better than he knew the bottom of his bed. This coming from the kid who used to be afraid of the monsters in his closet and slept under his bed countless times. Take that as a metaphor if you’d like.

The trees were his family, the trees were his home, the trees listened to his rants and tears and joys all the same. This time venting his frustration over the taunting 50 he’d earned. And they were usually alone, just him and the trees, but Tuesday seemingly had it out for him. Among the trees was the boy inhabiting his thoughts- Danny.

He was dressed in his usual dark jeans and oversized NASA tee, a flannel draped loosely over his arms, threatening to fall at any sudden movement. Combat boots dug into the dirt beneath him with his weight pressed against a Rum Cherry tree, he was the blueprint for nerdy punks across Amity Park. Stealing glances at a notebook held tightly in one hand, he was taking swigs of water out of a pastel pink hydroflask. He looked- peaceful.

Feeling like a creep, Dash continued to watch as he let his notebook fall from his hands as he drunkenly fished in one of his flannel pockets. Horror washed over Dash’s senses as he watched Danny pull out a matchbook and strike one. Mischief lit up his eyes. Before he could take even a single breath, he watched Danny fill his mouth with what he was now convinced was definitely not water, before taking the flame to his lips.

In an instant, flames licked up his face and Dash ran on autopilot. He dug his own water bottle out of his backpack and spent no time rushing up to his burning friend, dousing him in liquid life. Conspicuousness be damned.

“Fuck”

Concern flooded Dash as he took in Danny’s appearance. His face was glazed, like the grease off a re-heated pizza slice. The pepperoni blisters only further drove their likeness. Singed hair wilted only to be pushed back up by a _somehow_ conscious Danny, only to reveal a melting eyeball. Like a goblet of wine, it dripped lazily, hypnotizing Dash for only a moment before feeling a tug deep in his stomach. He was caught in a battle between wanting- no _needing_ to throw up and rushing to help his friend.

He didn’t win.

“Shit, Dash, how long have you been here?” Danny gurgled out, words swishing in his mouth, meaning only salvaged by the sheer luck of Dash’s presence. If he hadn’t been there-

“Dash?!”

Maybe it was because it was his name and it was familiar, but he could’ve sworn his name spilled out in a much clearer light. He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t want to take the chance of throwing up again. Vile still stained his tongue as he asked,

“Are you okay?”

The question was stupid, obviously he wasn’t okay, but it still hung in the air for a few excruciating seconds. Dash squeezed his eyes shut and turned to Danny’s general area and opened his mouth to say something, anything to cut through the ugly tension between them. Danny cut first.

He had the nerve to ask, “Are _you_ okay?” and Dash blanched. He didn’t know what to think of Danny. Was he selfless for asking, or just plain brain dead?

“Am I okay?” he drawled out.

“I mean you kind of just ruined my shoes with your puke, like, how am I s’pose to wash this out?” he said. This time he didn’t imagine it. His words were much easier to decipher. Not oozing with moist vowels and quivering consonants, but clear and coherent thoughts. And, was he teasing him about the throw-up? The same throw-up caused by his near-death experience?

“You set yourself on fire!? In the middle of the park no less! You could’ve died! You could’ve-“ mid-way through his little speech he dared to look up only for the words to die on his lips. Danny looked fine, generally at least. His face was now adorned with light scar tissue where previously dark burns marred his fair skin.

“Uh, that was kind of the point?”

At that, the tug at his stomach returned. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes at the very thought of witnessing Danny’s suicide attempt. It was much worse than he thought.

“Danny-“

“Wait no, that came out wrong.” Danny sighed and ran a shaky hand through his now unkempt, but otherwise fine, hair. “look Dash, you might wanna sit down for this one.” He gestured to the tree he had, just minutes ago, been resting on. He shakily took a seat on one of the tree’s massive jutting roots. Danny followed. In minutes, his view of the world shattered. Everything he thought he knew about ghosts was thrown out the window and he found himself back in school Freshman year, back at seeing a ghost for the first time.

He hated Tuesdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? Okay ma'am..
> 
> When I say I am proud of this chapter, I mean it, I am proud! I did so much research (to the point where I have to be on some kind of FBI watch list because no sane person googles "what happens to an eye if boiled"...) Anyways, this chapter was inspired by @Ronan_Writes beautiful idea of Danny eating something flammable and then chowing down on a lit match with a dash of Dash (see what I did there).

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always open to any death suggestions!
> 
> Shameless plug for my tumblr account: https://standbi-ghost.tumblr.com/


End file.
